Blast To the Past
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: When Samantha suddenly disappears on a hunt, Deanna calls on Castiel to help her find her sister. Whatever took Sam brought her back to the 1920s. Deanna and Castiel launch themselves into the past, but will they be able to figure out what kidnapped Sam and will they be able to get her back before time runs out? (Lame description is lame-;)


**My girlfriend loves Destiel and the 1920s, so I was inspired to write this work of fiction for our three-month anniversary. This is for Amy.**

* * *

"Deanna, I'm not comfortable with this-"

"Come on, Cas," the spunky woman cut him off, "Quit being a baby. You know we can't waltz in the 1920s with our own clothes." Deanna paused momentarily. "...Not that people waltz anymore to begin with," she mulled, before getting back on track. "Besides, how is that any different from your normal getup? I had to cut my friggin' _hair_ for this. You think YOU'RE making a sacrifice?"

Castiel made no further comments. Deanna resorted to feeling her bob cut. Her hair felt so much lighter. She hated how it looked now, but it felt nice. And at least she wouldn't have to worry about enemies grabbing her by the hair during any more brawls. Actually, when she thought about it, she felt like one of those undercover vigilantes. Those sleek, sexy ladies with short hair who strapped guns to garters under their skirts. The ones nobody _ever _suspected. Now that was an idea she liked a lot. This was a movie, and she was the star. She could be as feminine as feminine could get, for once. She could be sexy and dangerous. Deanna puckered her lips in thought, and a quirky smile came to light. This could actually be an enjoyable experience after all.

The _1920s_? What in the holy Hell were Cas and Deanna doing in the 1920s anyway? Well, Samantha had gone missing during a hunt. Deanna became desperate when her little sister didn't turn up anywhere, and she flipped over every last stone in her search. She summoned Castiel at last, and Castiel was able to use a ritual to locate Sam. Deanna was in for a surprise to discover that Sam had been whisked back almost a hundred years in time. They didn't know how this happened, or who (or _what_) did it, but Deanna was Hellbent on getting her sister back. Castiel managed to flash-step them both back to the past, but it wasn't easy. Castiel was drained like a battery. Deanna had to drag the angel's sorry carcass to a hotel, and managed to book a room for them. Thank God every thing was so cheap back then: Deanna was able to afford a V.I.P. suite no problem. But Castiel was spent. So Deanna went off on her own for a while, scouring New York City for any possible leads on Samantha. She turned up empty-handed, and defeated, she was left with no choice but to either sulk at the motel, or do some exploring of her own.

The first thing that Deanna did was get a haircut. She was sick of receiving strange looks from passerbys, men and women alike. She also changed up her clothes a bit. Apparently in the 1920s, women were still trying to grasp the idea of wearing trousers. Not to mention Deanna popped into the Jazz Era wearing _shorts_. It was fashionably abominable. Deanna wasn't much of a vintage enthusiast, and she wanted to just charge up her angel's batteries, nab Samantha, and fly the coop. But for now she was stuck here.

It took Castiel two days to wake up. They were the most agonizing days of her life. She had kept a sharp eye out for leads on Sam, but her radar wasn't nearly as perceptive as Castiel's. He could tune into the celestial frequency to locate Sam. At least room service was impeccable. The food was absolutely delectable, to her immense surprise. But when Castiel woke, nothing else matter but to find her sister. She dragged him out to get fixed up.

Castiel emerged from his dressing room looking sharper than Deanna had ever seen him before. It was a huge improvement, considering that the angel's outfit hardly changed, by respective design. He was clean-shaven, his hair was slicked and shiny, and he was all buttoned up. It seemed that the only thing out of place of him was -not surprisingly- his tie. Castiel's expression seeped disapproval, and he was as stiff as a board, hands clenched. In his left hand, he was grasping a fedora that he detested. Deanna had to bite back a laugh.

"God, you look like you just stepped right out of /The Godfather/," she remarked, drawing up close to him. Castiel was clearly uncomfortable, but she couldn't help it: she had to exploit this. It was a rare opportunity. Deanna wrapped herself around him, one hand patting down on his upper torso, and the other creeping up towards his shirt collar. "Me-ow~" she purred, causing the angel to twitch. Deanna snickered, and circled around him, grabbing his tie and tugging him forward. "You're hopeless." she pulled and adjusted the fabric for him, then stepped back. "There. Perfect. Let's go."

They made the purchase, and when Castiel went to put his overcoat back on, Deanna confiscated it.

"Dude. It's at least eighty degrees out."

In truth, Deanna was just enjoying this too much. Plus, if they had spent the money, Castiel might as well show off his outerwear. As they headed down the block, they got to talking about Sam.

"I haven't found a damn thing," the older Winchester shook her head, dismayed. "Nada. I mean what the hell? Are you sure you worked your mojo right?"

"Sam's here," Castiel nodded, squinting his eyes against the midday light. He watched a yellow jalopy with cream-colored rims putter on by them down the busy street. A cyclist sped down the sidewalk behind it.

"Well can you find her?" Deanna demanded, "I wanna get the Hell back to my own century, please and thanks."

Castiel stopped walking, and Deanna halted on her heels.

"What?"

"...I can't find her," Castiel told her gravely.

"I'm sorry- _what_?" Deanna bobbed her head closer, thinking she misheard him.

"She's here," the angel reassured her, before the Winchester had the chance to have a meltdown, "I can feel her..." he drifted off, gaze reaching into the air, searching. "But I can't pinpoint her whereabouts. Something is interfering. It's powerful, if it has the ability to cancel me out."

Just what Deanna wanted to hear.

"Well that's just friggin' _great_."

"It could be that I'm still drained," Castiel went on, ignoring her salty attitude, "I just woke up, after all. I'm not charged at full capacity."

That gave Deanna some hope, but she had a feeling that Castiel was lying for her benefit.

"Well, guess we better keep looking," Deanna huffed, and went to confront the first person she saw.

"Excuse me-" she shortened her stride, kicking up the feminine charm. "Excuse me, sir- Can you direct me to the police station?"

The man she met, an older gentleman in a suit and bow tie, turned to her.

"The police?" he seemed surprised by her question, "What do you need the police for? Are you in trouble?"

"No, well," Deanna shifted uncomfortably on her heels, "-I haven't seen my sister, and I'm scared for her. I think she's gone missing."

"Your sister's missing? Oh, gosh, that's _terrible._" Deanna was soured by the exaggerated sympathy he was showing, but she had a feeling that he was actually being sincere with his concern. People from these days were far more... "dramatic"? At least that's what she had gathered, anyway.

Castiel stood alone while Deanna gleaned directions from the man. The man had offered to drive her to the station, but she declined, saying that her "cousin" was helping her. Deanna showed some mercy here, instead of playing up her angel friend to be her spouse. She didn't want to torment Castiel _too_ much.

Castiel put himself to some use and tried asking a passing couple if they had seen "a tall girl with long dark hair, wearing pants". This description earned the angel incredulous looks, polite negations, and much doubt in his sobriety. The duo went on their way shortly after. Deanna prayed that Sam was alright. They made haste down the block, to find the police station.


End file.
